


Purim

by QueenRiley



Category: Power Rangers SPD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-13
Updated: 2010-03-13
Packaged: 2017-10-07 22:45:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/70025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenRiley/pseuds/QueenRiley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bridge celebrates Purim with an old friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Purim

Jack was pleasantly surprised to see Bridge walk down his alley early one evening. An unusually cold winter was still clinging to the air, fighting to keep the chill against the warmth of impending spring. Jack had been busy that winter trying to ensure that all the homeless, human and alien alike, of NewTech City had warm enough clothing, some blankets, a place to sleep where they wouldn't freeze. He'd been so busy he hadn't been able to swing by the Academy and see his old teammates. Seeing Bridge walk toward him with a big basket in his hands sent a pang of regret and longing through his heart. He missed his friends.

"Hey, Bridge. What's up?" he asked, standing and meeting him halfway. Bridge flashed a trademark smile and held out the basket.

"Mishloach manot. For you." Jack didn't understand half of what Bridge just said, but he reached out and took the basket. Inside it was stuffed to overflowing with canned goods, packages of crackers and cookies, bottles of water, and socks.

"Thanks, man, but… uh… Bridge? One of these things is not like the other," he chuckled. Bridge looked confused for a minute before Jack pointed out the socks.

"Oh! Yeah. That's not standard stuffing for a Purim basket, but I thought you'd probably hand out most of the food anyway and everybody needs a good pair of warm socks, so you could hand those out too." Jack's smile softened and warmed. All this food really would stretch pretty far with his usual 'customers' and Bridge was right. When you're homeless, nothing is quite so prized as a new pair of clean, thick, warm socks.

"Thanks, Bridge. This stuff will go a long way to helping." He put the basket down and clapped Bridge on the shoulder. There was a comfortable silence as Jack contemplated how to delicately ask about the odd words Bridge had used… mish-low-ach something and poor-em. He'd just opened his mouth to ask outright when Bridge held out a piece of paper. He read it over quickly. It was an ad for a Purim carnival that weekend at Temple Beth Shalom, the only synagogue in town. It was open to everybody.

"I've managed to talk everybody else into going. I was hoping you'd agree to come with us. We miss seeing you, Jack." Bridge spoke softly, his voice dropping to near a whisper at the end. Instead of agreeing to go, instead of acknowledging the emotions, Jack changed the subject.

"What's Purim?" he asked. Bridge smiled.

"It's the best holiday! There's costumes and contests and carnivals. There's rides and candy and really good food. There's even a play! And the best cookies in the world. You only get them at Purim and you'll never taste anything so delicious. It's great fun."

"Sounds good, sounds good. But what's it about?" Jack stressed, hoping to get an answer that made a little more sense. Sometimes it took awhile for Bridge to be steered to what needed to be explained.

"Oh! It's a celebration. Standard stuff… they tried to kill us, we won, let's eat. But even cooler than that, it's a great story about a powerful woman and how she saved an entire culture." Jack bent down and picked up the basket. He motioned for Bridge to follow him back to the large truck that was waiting at the end of the alley.

"I'd love to hear the story, if you've got the time to tell it." They settled into the back of the truck, legs dangling over the side, and Bridge began.

Over the next half hour, Bridge wove a tale. It was a tale about a misguided king, a cruel villain, an evil plot, and a heroine queen with a secret who risked everything to save her people.

Jack sat back and absorbed the information. It was a good story. It certainly sounded like a good reason to celebrate. He smiled at Bridge, glad to have the chance to join him in his holiday.

"I'll meet you at the synagogue at 10," was his only response. Bridge beamed and jumped down from the truck. He turned back.

"Wear a costume. Something that fits with the story," he advised before trotting away.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jack was late. The others were already waiting there for him. What he saw made him suddenly very self conscious. He'd grabbed an old sheet and wrapped it around him like a toga. He'd found a paper crown from a fast food joint and crammed that on his head. He suddenly felt very under-costumed.

He spotted Sky right away. He wasn't wearing a costume at all. He was standing around in his SPD uniform. He looked bored. Jack figured Bridge had just given in to Sky. It was often easier than trying to argue with him. Still, maybe if he'd put up more of a fight, he could have gotten out of this silly costume business.

Syd sparkled. Literally. She was wearing a fancy dress and her hair cascaded around her shoulders in golden curls. She had a tiara on her head and it glinted in the light. Jack would look like a beggar standing next to her.

Z spotted him first and waved. He waved back, but even her costume was more elaborate than his. It looked like she'd really done her research. The uneven stitching told him she'd made it herself, but it was period specific and he was amazed at the effort. She looked poor, but that was her goal. He shifted.

"Where's Bridge?" he asked. Z smiled and pointed to the ticket counter. Bridge was handing over some cash and taking a big role of little red tickets. He apparently planned for them to spend a lot of time on the different activities. He turned and saw Jack, his face splitting into a wide grin.

He instantly set Jack's costume worries at ease, in only the way Bridge could. Bridge looked absolutely ridiculous, but didn't seem the least bit self-conscious about it. He was in a full body suit, covering as much skin as possible, and had his thick leather gloves firmly on his hands. His costume was tan fabric stretched over a large triangle made of wire. In the middle of the tan fabric was splotchy orange paint. Topping it all off was the blue kippah, completely out of place with the costume.

"Hey, Jack! I'm glad you made it. Nice costume!" Bridge was genuinely happy to see him and it was all he could do not to laugh outright.

"What in the world are you supposed to be?" Jack couldn't keep the smirk off his face. His lips twitched as he fought the full on smile, fought to keep from chuckling too much.

"Hamantaschen!" he exclaimed.

"Haman what?" Jack asked. Bridge pointed to a nearby table. It was straining under the weight of plates upon plates of cookies. They were shaped like triangles and had brightly coloured fruit dollops in the center. A sign advertised strawberry, prune, fig, and apricot. Orange coloured dolloped apricot. 'Hamantaschen. 2 for $1'

"The best cookie in the world." Jack smiled. Bridge smiled back.


End file.
